At twilight, the fishes are retreating

To the distant depth, like an ocean

They are sure of disappearance with all

The effort being made. There is no more

Jumping out of the surface; every little corner

Feeling like a void.

They are full of day dreams.

They complain with broken bubbles.

They hear the ghosts ranting

Beneath the currents, no matter

How far away they try to keep.

The shore is too many calls.

They are certain about the warm

Sunlight that can reflect and

Refract from their bodies as they become

Lighter, and lighter at dawn